“To do what?” I almost rip out the grass in embarrassment but somehow, it’s imperative for me to know this. “To mess with? Like you messed with me?” Maybe it’s crazy but I have to know. In reply, Zach’s hand spreads over the line of my neck. Gently. Only he knows how to be tender with fingers as rough as his. “No,” he rasps as he sifts his other hand along the strands of my hair. “There’s only one shade of blue unlucky enough to catch my eye.”
